Sheeps and Cotton
by Rescape
Summary: John is left home on a case. Suddenly Sherlock bursts through the door, injured and he can't remember why. At the same time John struggles with his feelings for Sherlock.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first fanfic im publishing ever! ^^

Also English is not my native language so please be nice to me, though i appreciate reviews.

I'm currently working on the second chapter as well, enjoy!

* * *

John sat in his armchair with his head resting on his arm, flickering through the channels with the remote in his other hand.

He sighed loudly and considered shutting the telly off and just going to bed but quickly dismissed the idea.

Sherlock had rushed away on a case alone, when John had insisted on going along with him, as he always did. Sherlock had denied him and told him that he simply didn't need his assistance.

But John was worried, Sherlock always let him come on the cases and this one had seemed so terribly interesting.

That was seven hours ago. And the clock was silently ticking away. John frowned when he glanced at the clock for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was quarter past four in the morning and John was feeling himself slipping away into sleep. But he forced himself to stay awake watching terrible reruns on telly, but so far it wasn't working well. The reruns only seemed to make him more tired and not make him stay awake.

He walked into the kitchen and poured water into the kettle flickering it on and reached for a mug in the upper cupboards.

Suddenly he heard a door slamming open and stairs slowly being stepped upon. It wasn't the usual fast paced steps, these were slow and even stopped occasionally. John turned around slowly and walked to the door pushing it open.

The steps went quiet.

Sherlock stood on the stairs leaning against the wall and the left part of his face was covered in blood and soaked by the rain. His breathing was heavy,ragged and it took a noticeably moment longer than usual for him to sense that John was there. And when he did, he froze looking up at John with fear in his eyes.

John looked at his flatmate in shock. ''Sherlock.'' He said quietly.

Sherlock swallowed. ''John.'' He replied in a hoarse tone.

It was almost as if someone flipped on a switch and then John was in doctor mode quickly running to his flatmate hesitating only a moment before he threw his arm over shoulder and helped him into the flat.

He dragged Sherlock into the kitchen and almost pushed him into the chair.  
''Wait here.'' He said while he quickly ran into the bathroom to grab the first aid kit.

John walked in to said bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit and when he returned head was hanging down over his chest.

Shit he had dozed off, not good, not good at all.

Panicking, John ran to his friend and put the first aid kit on the table, nearly making it fall off the table in the process.  
Placing his hands on shoulders and shaking him.  
''Sherlock, Sherlock you have to wake up .. shit'' Sherlocks eyelids flickered and he looked confused. ''How did i get here?'' He asked trough his clattering teeth.

John froze. ''You .. don't remember?''

After a moment of silence Sherlock shook his head slowly.

''Well shit, just .. just stay still you have a wound over your left eyebrow .. does it hurt anywhere else?'' He quickly asked him.

Sherlock gulped. ''My right foot hurts and my head is throbbing.'' He managed to say. ''Also id .. like some water.''

John nodded and walked over to the sink and filled a glass with water, handing it over to Sherlock who swept it all in one go. Coughing slightly when he sat the glass on the table behind him.

John opened the first aid kit he found a rag which he used to wipe all the blood away from Sherlock face. It looked terrible really, much worse than it really was. Sherlock hissed when the rag passed over his eyebrow and he shot an angry glance at John. ''Sorry.'' John muttered back. John only then realized that Sherlock most be freezing, looking down at his jumper he saw it was soaked as well as the detective. He hastily walked into the bathroom again without a word and grabbed some towels.  
When he returned Sherlock was looking at him with a drowsy smile across his lips.

''Right so .. do you need help?'' He met eyes again and cleared his throat. ''With the coat i mean you might catch a cold.''  
Sherlock threw him a distant look and nodded, muttering something John couldn't quite catch.

John hesitated a bit before he reached over and helped Sherlock with his coat. He reached for the towel and looked at Sherlock for approval.

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes before he nodded again.  
John smiled slightly and dried the detectives hair making it stand in various directions, he looked even madder than usual. ''You'll probably need to take a shower though, hairs all soaked in blood.'' John said with a sad smile and he suddenly felt sick at his words.  
Continuing he went over to the first aid kit again and soaked a cotton ball in antiseptic.

''Well this might sting a little .. but you already know that.'' Sherlock only stared at him in response.  
''Really John, not some antic china doll who breaks at the slightest touch.'' Sherlock stared irritatingly into Johns eyes and the sudden intense eye contact made John shiver slightly.

John leaned closer to Sherlock so he could tend to the gash. He pressed the cotton ball slightly harder than necessary to it just to get his point across.

Sherlock immediately pulled back and put one of his arms in front of him defensively, hissing at the same time.  
Sherlock looked at John like he was thinking about the best place to dump Johns corpse, or something along those lines. At least that was what John though the look meant.

Sherlock surprisingly leaned into John again. ''Just get on with it.'' He hissed out. John shrugged and quickly cleaned the gash putting some medical tape over it as well, it didn't need stitches.

''So um, you go take a shower but don't lock the door, you might have a concussion.'' Sherlock stood up slowly, wincing slightly and limped his way over the bathroom muttering something indistinctly.

John raised an eyebrow but quickly cleaned up and went to bedroom and put his neatly folded on the bed, that was the least he could do for his friend.

Suddenly he a loud thump from downstairs. ''No.'' He whispered as he ran fast down the stairs, nearly tripping over his own feet. He ran to the bathroom door. Knocking.  
''Sherlock, Sherlock are you okay?''

He waited a few minutes and no sound was heard from inside.

''Sherlock? .. I'm coming in okay?'' He reached for the handle, hesitating for just a moment, he turned it and opened slowly.

Sherlock had passed out next to the toilet, clearly he had tried to reach for it probably feeling sick. Concussion it was then. But no, Sherlock was lying, on the ground.

John could hear the warning bells ring loud in his head, waking him up from whatever trance he was in. Walking into the bathroom and over to Sherlock.

John looked at him in fear, pulling him up so his back was supported against the wall. ''Sherlock, Sherlock can you hear me?''  
Sherlock only grunted and moaned in response. ''Sherlock!'' John was shaking him. And with a gasp Sherlock opened his eyes. His eyes searching the room frantically.

''Sherlock listen to me, do you know why you're here?''

eyes stopped searching the room abruptly and his eyes landed on Johns eyes, his breathing slowly calming down.

''Yes you .. you told me to take a shower because there was blood in my hair.'' He replied quietly.

John smiled in relief, it wasn't as bad as he thought. Thank the gods.

''Yes, yes i did.'' John said smiling slightly.

Sherlock looked at john with a confused look and tipped his head a bit to the side.

''Well then, should i help you to your bedroom?'' John said in an uncertain tone.

Sherlock took a hold of the sink and pushed himself up. ''Yes that .. would be helpful thank you.'' He said the last part just loud enough for John to hear.

John pulled Sherlock in and hang his arm around his hip supporting him , he bit his lip when he felt the skin to skin contact blushing slightly. To be honest it felt kind of good to be close to Sherlock like this. His curls occasionally brushed against Johns ear and made him feel all woozy. Also he couldn't stop thinking about how Sherlock was only dressed in a towel around his waist and he could feel himself blushing, god he must look like a tomato. But he pushed those thoughts away best he could, it was not proper thinking like that while helping your injured flatmate.

He walked Sherlock to his room and retrieved his hand when he neared the bed. ''Oh right i left your on the bed ill just..'' John said fast walking out of the room and into the kitchen.

God what was wrong with him. Here your flatmate is injured and all you can think about is .. John felt his cheeks burn bright red and he gripped harder onto the chair his knuckles turned white.  
''Im not gay.'' He repeated like a mantra in his head. Taking in deep breaths.

John sighed and looked at his watch and dragged his hand over his face as he discovered that it was exactly 5 am. If he was going to get any sleep at all he better go sleep now.

John was just about to turn around and go upstairs when he heard a cough behind him. John turned around. Sherlock was leaning against the door frame, holding himself up. He was wearing his.  
''John could you get a bucket still feeling a bit sick'' Sherlock bit his lip. His face was pale, paler than usual that is.

Johns tired eyes fixed on Sherlock and he nodded tiredly. Walking into the bathroom again, taking the first aid kit with him to store away.

He ignored old clothes on the ground, too tired to care. He put the first aid kit in its place again and opened the cupboard and finding the bucket.  
Yawning he closed the cupboard and walked into room. Sherlock was lying in his bed again, good. But his eyes were open fixed on John. John put the basket next to the bed.  
He walked into the kitchen again and brought a glass of water for him as well.

Yawning again John looked at Sherlock with dozed eyes. God he was so tired, it felt like he could fall asleep just standing here.  
''Anything'' He was interrupted by his own yawn again. ''Else?''

Sherlock squinted at John. ''Yes.'' Sherlock said in a tone darker than his usual voice, his tired voice. John blushed again, god that voice.

''What?'' John was glad that it was dark in the room, Sherlock would probably deduce him to pieces.

''Sleep here.''

John froze. The man couldn't be serious right? Well they had shared a bed before, but back then they had been forced too.  
Was John over-analyzing everything? But god he was too tired to care. And bed looked so ridiculously comfortable right now.

''Alright but why?''

Sherlock squinted at John again. ''You're almost sleeping standing up, i have an concussion and you're only going to stay awake and worry anyway, so conclusion, sleep here.''

John was too tired to argue with anything or anyone. He cleared his throat. ''Right em, fine.'' John sighed and headed up to his room again, no way he was going to sleep in boxers.

When he had changed he brushed his teeth and went down the stairs again. It felt a bit weird. ''Im going to sleep with Sherlock. Just sleep. Nothing else. Sleep and im absolutely not gay'' he thought and clasped his left hand and swallowed.

He walked into room again. eyes almost shone in the dark reflecting the moonlight that seeped through the shutters.

John walked over to the other side of the bed ignoring the feel of gaze on him. It almost felt like it was burning his skin.  
John slipped under the covers. Sherlock yawned and turned around facing John.

John looked at him, still feeling very tense and a bit uncomfortable. But at least he was not doing that intense staring anymore. Just a pair of sleepy eyes looking at him in the dark.  
John sighed and closed his eyes. Trying to concentrate on how nice the bed felt and ignoring that he was in fact, sharing bed with his flatmate. And enjoying it.

When he could feel sleep slowly dragging him in, he also felt a hand clasp around his wrist. Sherlocks hand.

''Thank you.'' It was barely a whisper, but John heard it. And a warm smile spread across his face. touch burned into his skin spreading a sensation across his arm. It made him feel content.

''Please, don't let go.'' He silently begged in his mind

''Please.''

He could feel Sherlocks grip getting looser as he as well got dragged into sleep.

But Sherlock didn't let go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is the new chapter! Slighty longer than i planned. Also i changed POW quite a lot in this chapter, sorry!**  
**Also i have a swedish test coming up so i might be a bit busy therefore not able to update very much but i'll try my best.**

**Also the usual: I don't own anything and please leave reviews or write suggestions on what you would want to happen next ! :) **

* * *

John woke up. His very first thought was. ''This isn't my bed.'' And he felt terribly confused.

He felt someones arms around him and someone breathing into his hair. It tickled his ear and sent chills down his spine. John drew in a deep breath and let it out in content.

John opened his eyes slowly, wincing when the sunlight that made it trough the shutters hit his eyes. When his eyes had got somewhat used to the new light he turned his head to the person lying next to him. Big mistake.

It was Sherlock, of course how could he had forgotten? But John regretted turning around his head, he was mere centimeters from Sherlocks face and his curls tickled Johns nose. It was too much, way too much.

A fight broke out inside him, he wanted to stay but also get the heck out of there all at once.

And John could not possibly ignore the fact that he had just had the best nights sleep in a long time. No nightmares, nothing. John was dragged from his thoughts when Sherlock nuzzled closer through him and John gasped when Sherlock unconsciously breathed just by his ear and buried his nose deeper in Johns hair. John immediately put his hand over his mouth letting out a muffled whimper, pushing himself free of Sherlocks strong grip around him.

''Shit, shit, shit i must have woken him up.'' He stared terrified at Sherlock while trying to be as quiet as possible.

Sherlock groaned and frowned. He was, just as John though. Waking up.

It was too late to get out of bed without making it awkward so John tried to stop blushing like a fourteen year old schoolgirl.

But before John could look away Sherlock opened his eyes. He scanned the room but his gaze finally fell on John. Sherlock squinted his eyes and moved back a little, providing some space for John and retrieving his hands.

Sherlock searched Johns face, still somewhat confused.

God someone had to break the silence otherwise this was getting to become more awkward, if that even was possible.

''Good morning.'' John said.

Sherlock only grunted and turned around facing the wall. To be honest John felt slightly hurt by it, but Sherlock was Sherlock.

John cleared his throat and got out of bed. ''I'll take a shower.'' He said and threw a look at Sherlock, who said nothing. And then he went into the bathroom, noticing Sherlocks still soaked clothes from last night. He sighed and ignored them. Sherlock was capable enough to clean up his own mess.

After he was done he brushed his teeth,shaved and quickly went upstairs and changed.

He went down the stairs and started preparing breakfast. Everything was going fine and well, he hummed gladly while frying the eggs. After he had placed the eggs and bacon on the plate he opened the fridge wincing slighty at the new addition of a foot in the left corner. Thankfully the orange juice had been left untouched. He smelled it just to be on the safe side though.

When he turned around he bumped into something. He looked up from the floor and was suddenly standing face to face with Sherlock.  
He dropped the orange juice from shock and could hear it getting poured out all over the floor. He gasped.

''Sherlock, i've told you not the sneak up on me like that!.'' He frowned and opened the cabinet to get a kitchen towels but almost tripped backwards when he saw what it contained. Dead mice. In the cabinet. How bloody wonderful.

John closed it quickly and laughed nervously. He turned his head around slowly and met Sherlocks eyes. ''You didn't put the mice there right?'' John said in a very serious tone.

''Well..'' Sherlock began, looking away from John and looking incredibly guilty.

''Nevermind.'' John said and stood abruptly cutting Sherlock of. John didn't feel hungry anymore. And to be honest he was very angry. But he also wanted to find out about the case, and what had happened to Sherlock so he bit his lip and contained himself.

John walked down the stairs to and knocked. She opened the door already dressed and had her makeup and hair done. ''Oh, you're up early.'' She said and smiled.  
John smiled back. ''Well yes, do you have a kitchen towel i can borrow?''

She nodded quickly. ''Oh dear, is it Sherlock again?'' She said while heading into the kitchen. ''No it was me this time actually.''

''Well then, accidents do happen to all of us don't they?'' She said while handing John the towel.

''They certainly do.'' He mumbled and thanked her, walking back into his own flat again. Sherlock was still standing in the kitchen, only he looked to be deep in thought.

John cleaned up the orange juice. Then he walked over to the kettle and turned it on. Sherlock finally snapped out of whatever he was thinking about.

Sherlock walked over and grabbed one of the plates John had prepared. And Johns mouth nearly dropped in shock, but then it wasn't that weird of an action after all. Sherlock usually didn't eat on cases but it wasn't that weird after all considering the circumstances.

Suddenly Sherlock let out a violent sneeze making John jump.  
Sherlock looked confused for a second. Then continued to chew on his toast.

John poured water,sugar and teabag into the two cups and grabbed them, heading over to sit opposite Sherlock.  
He handed Sherlock his mug.

''So.'' He cleared his throat. ''Do you .. remember anything?''  
Sherlock seemed to think over his answer for a minute.  
''A few things, i remember being knocked over and seeing three men surrouns me.''

It looked like Sherlock was going to continue to talk but he abruptly cut off.

''Then?'' John gestured Sherlock to continue.

''Then everything turns black.''He said.

They stayed quiet again for a few more moments.

Sherlock shot up from his seat, starling John.  
''GOD, it's so FRUSTRATING.'' He shouted stomping his left foot on the floor. He made a painful expression and winced forward grasping for the chair again.

John looked at Sherlock with concerned and still slightly startled eyes.

''Sherlock you have to rest, please don't run around it's only going to get worse.''

Sherlock shot him an angry glare.  
''Im …aware.'' Sherlock said. Looking down at the table.

Sherlock finished his breakfast and they sat in silence.

* * *

John was walking around in Tescos, he reached for some chocolate digestives and turned around the corner. He wasn't even sure what he was going to buy, what was going to stay safe from Sherlocks experiments and what wasn't? John frowned. There was no way to know that.

He decided to buy some pasta and risotto rice along with some vegetables and canned mushrooms. He also bought some new orange juice,milk and some berry tea that he liked.

He frowned when he walked by the self check out and walked up to the queue.

It felt good to get away from the flat for a bit, with all the drama that had been going on. He only hoped that Sherlock hadn't blown any holes in the walls during the time he had been gone.

Hopefully he had remembered what happened during the case.

He walked back to baker street and entered the flat.  
''Im back.'' He said. But he got no reply.

He packed up the groceries and got rid of the mouse in the cupboard frowning. After he had cleaned up he washed his hands several times. He walked by Sherlocks room, it was empty. John frowned again, considering how the detectives leg had been acting his morning it was absolutely no good for him to be running about.

He walked into the kitchen feeling even more worried than before.  
He grabbed his phone and sent away a text. ''Where are you?''  
John sat down in the sofa and stared at his phone on the table waiting for a reply.

He was originally going to start cooking dinner when he came home but now he wasn't sure if he should run after Sherlock or not.  
Besides, he was going to try lure Sherlock into eating some of it in the first place.

He was reaching for the remote when his phone buzzed. He quickly grabbed his phone.

''Where i passed out last night. -SH''

John frowned deeper and quickly replied.

''Yes but where?''

''There is no need for you to come. On my way back already -SH.''

Knowing Sherlock he was probably lying which angried John even more. Why didn't he just let John come along with him like usual?

John didn't know what to do, London is enormous.  
He had no choice but to wait, but he was worried sick.  
He sighed deeply and turned on the tv in an attempt to distract himself.

He was lucky, Doctor who was on and who doesn't like doctor who?  
And really liked the new companion, Clara.

It was over way too fast for Johns liking and changed channel cringing only imagining watching ''The voice.''

After switching fast through the channel and watching some reruns he got up and walked into the kitchen, he was ridiculously hungry. He turned his head to look out the window, it was dark. Already? When had that happened?

The idiot had been lying then, of course.  
John made some risotto, enough for too. He could always store it away and trick Sherlock into eating it later.

But Sherlock was still gone.  
John swallowed and tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach.

Sherlock was running as fast as his legs could take him, It had been a stupid idea really running after the suspects when he had been well aware that his leg would protest. His was face frowning in pain from his leg. He had found them, the suspects that had previously knocked him over. But he had not expected this case to be involved in something so much bigger, oh John was going to love this!

He stopped abruptly when nearing the end of the rooftop. He had to jump. He quickly calculated the success his jump. He bit down on his lip hard. He could hear the suspects getting closer.

He looked over the rooftops, it wasn't that far to baker street, he would make it.

''Ey, stop right there!'' He heard them shouting after him.

Sherlock smiled, he backed slighty and ran and jumped. He sighed in relief when his first foot landed on the roof opposite.

''Fu'kin hell'' Someone said after him. Sherlock ran again and tried to ignore the pain in his leg which was only getting worse and worse by the second. He could hear a gun getting cocked and some minute later gunshots were flying after him. He jumped down the next roof, running down the fire escape. And quickly ran around the corner hoping to confuse his followers.

He was so close. Only two blocks from Baker street, from John.

He slowed down and continued walking limping with his leg, the pain was nearly overwhelming. At least he had got rid of his followers for a while. He shivered, it had gotten colder. Or was it just his imagination?

He limped his way to Baker street and nearly collapsed when he opened the door. He closed it behind himself and limped very slowly to the stairs. He gasped. He sat on the stairs closing his eyes and frowning at the intense pain. He just wanted it to stop.

Suddenly the door above him swung open and it hit the wall with a loud thud. In the door frame stood John, breathing fast and looking very angry.

''Sher..?''

His expression quickly changed, his eyebrows raising up. Sherlock saw him mouthing a silent ''No.'' Barely audible. John slowly walked down the stair and sat down next to him placing his hand very gently on his leg. ''How much does it hurt?'' John said.

''Ten.'' Sherlock hissed, closing his eyes again. At that John withdrew his hand and frowned. John nodded.

''We will need to get inside if you want my help.'' John said.

''I know.'' Sherlock replied.

John frowned again and placed his hand under his friend's shoulder supporting him. He slowly raised them up both up. ''Okay?'' John asked.

Sherlock nodded.

They slowly walked up the stairs and Sherlock hissed every time his bad leg made contact with one of the steps.

John helped him to his bed and then quickly went to get the first aid kit again.

Sherlock rolled over to his drawer and pulled out a shirt and put it on, he dragged down his pants and winced when he saw the state his leg was in. There was some blood.

To be honest it was quite a lot of blood.

At that John got back. He had not only the first aid kit with him but also a wet towel and a glass of water.

John gasped when he saw the leg. ''God.''

Sherlock looked at John impatiently and after that he rather fast cleaned the gash and gave Sherlock something for the pain.

''Sherlock.'' He said.

Sherlock only stared back.

''This will need stitches.'' He said in a very serious tone.

Sherlock sighed loudly. And John only shook his head searching trough the first aid kit again.

After stitching the gash up John sighed and put away the first aid kit again.

When he came back he sat down in the bed again by Sherlocks feet.

''Don't think im not angry with you, cause i am.'' He said

''Im just too tired to deal with this now, we'll talk about it tomorrow.''

John stood up again. And walked out.

''John.'' Sherlock said, making him stop.

''Stay.'' Sherlock said.

John turned his head slowly.

''No.'' He replied coldly and walked upstairs.

* * *

John closed his door behind him. He finally let out a loud breath he had not been aware of holding.

John knew he wouldn't get much sleep, he didn't know why he bothered to go upstairs in the first place.

He was boiling with anger, he'd been worried sick. And when he had seen Sherlock at the end of the stairs again, hurt, even worse than before everything had just seemed to shut down around him.  
John decided to change into his pyjamas anyway. He had work tomorrow and had to try to get some sleep. He couldn't risk getting caught falling asleep at work again.  
So John dragged up his covers around him and closed his eyes.

He'd been so worried. He had even been close to just putting his jacket on and run out in the street and look for him everywhere, but of course he would never have found him that way , this is bloody London. Of course Sherlock had showed up anyway but even more hurt than yesterday. He'd even told him not to walk on that leg and now he had probably been running with it. And seeing Sherlock in just his pants hadn't exactly done any good either, He was a doctor and was used to seeing patients like that and he was usually unaffected about it but tending to Sherlocks gash he'd been flushing like a school girl again. He could only hope take Sherlock had not taken notice in the dark. If he was going to hide his feelings he had to get better at it. He realised.

Sherlock was not a consulting detective for nothing.

John turned around and buried his face in the pillow and let out, almost a whimper. He was afraid. Afraid of being deduced to pieces.

* * *

Sherlock woke up when he heard rattling in the kitchen. He opened his right eye and squinted at the clock on top of the nightstand.

It was only eight in the morning. Sherlock groaned and buried himself deeper under the covers mumbling closing his eye again.  
Then he turned around to get more comfortable. Which turned out to be a big mistake. The pain in his leg returned all unexpectedly and he hissed loudly, quickly returning to his former position biting down hard on his lip and trying to not concentrate on the pain.  
He knew even attempting getting up would be a stupid idea. Yet he was going to go insane just lying in bed all day, he would much rather be in the sofa.

Wait.

Sherlock squinted at the clock again. Yes, it was eight, four past eight to be exact. wasn't John supposed to go to work today?

Oh.

Sherlock smiled mildly, previously the idea of having company would have annoyed him no doubt. But John was one of the exceptions. But why did John decide to stay home?  
To take care of him? That would very sentiment of him. But Sherlock doubted that was the cause. And it was hard to deduce the cause without seeing John and the door closed.

Sherlock looked around his room. His phone was nowhere in sight. He furrowed his brows together.  
Sherlock rolled over again, this time being careful with his reached for the door handle and managed to turn it around making the door glide open across the floor. The rattling in the kitchen continued and he could hear the sizzling of eggs in a pan.

But he could still not see John just look into the short hall and the closed kitchen door.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. ''John.'' He said. The clattering continued. ''JOHN.'' And it stopped.

Footsteps made their way across the floor in the short hall connecting the kitchen and Sherlocks bedroom. And John appeared in the door frame. Already dressed, shaved and in his favorite white jumper. He looked over to Sherlock. ''Yes?'' He said.

Sherlock looked at John, he was dark under his eyes and it looked like he had hardly gotten any sleep at all. John stood in the door frame looking rather impatient raising one of his eyebrows.

''Did you want anything?'' He asked.

Sherlock nodded. ''My leg hurts, i cannot walk for the moment, and my brain will rot if i lie here the entire day.'' He stated.  
John looked amused, smiling at the corner of his mouth.

''Well then i can give you something for the pain and bring your laptop?'' John suggested.  
Sherlock looked doubtful at that suggestion.  
''Yes thank you but i think the laptop will bore me very fast considering i can read about the cases but i can't go anywhere.'' He said and gestured with his hand to his leg. ''Well lets start like this and i'll help you out to the sofa later.'' John said walking out to the livingroom and gathered said things and giving them to Sherlock.

Sherlock sighed in content when the pain in his leg lessened. The only bad side-effect were the tiredness. But since he had nothing else to do and was incredibly bored he submitted himself to sleep.

When he woke again only an hour had passed to his disappointment.  
But the painkillers in his system was still in effect.  
Sherlock slowly sat up in bed and swung his legs over to the floor.

''It isn't that bad.'' He thought when his bad leg made contact with the floorboards.

He took a grip of the nightstand and stood up. Sherlock supported himself on the nightstand and slowly walked into the wall supporting himself on the wall along the way. When he walked into the kitchen he let go of the wall and..

He stumbled over falling to the floor with a loud thud.  
He raised glanced into the livingroom and saw John looking over to him with a very confused look plastered on his face.

''Sherlock?''

John walked over and smiled when he saw Sherlock lying comically across the floor. But his experssion changed very suddenly to something angrier.

''I told you i would HELP you into the living room yet you try by yourself, what if you had teared the stiches open it would have taken a lot longer to heal. Yet you complain about being bored...''

Johns speech blurred out. He could hear John talking and see him making gestures with his hands but he couldn't quite make it out. John looked very concerned and somewhat hurt.

Suddenly there was a pair of strong arms around him and Sherlock gasped. John stilled looking at Sherlock. ''What is it? Does it hurt?'' Sherlock shook his head from side to side slowly. And they kept looking at each other awkwardly until John coughed and looked away.

John helped him over to the sofa and placed a warm cup of tea in front of him. ''And now don't move.'' He whispered as he sat down in his armchair and pulled up a book in front of him.

Sherlock pulled the blanket around him and glanced at the telly. It was some ridicoulous reality show that made Sherlocks head ache by just watching it. He quickly reached for the remote and browsed the channels until he decided for a documentary about sharks that was somewhat entertaining even though Sherlock knew it was inaccurate.

''John?'' He asked while watching the telly.

''Mmm?''

''How long until i can walk again?''

''Without it hurting i would guess around three to four days.'' He said while turning to the next page in his book.

''And if you keep walking around it will take longer than that.'' He added.

Sherlock kept looking at the telly but felt somewhat annoyed that John had to pick up the subject again.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and John put his book away and walked down the stairs to answer it.

Sherlock could hear the door being opened and Johns voice along with someone elses. Then he heard footssteps making their way up the stairs and the door was pushed open again.

John walked in first and when Sherlock saw the figure behind him he sighed heavily.

''Hello brother dear.'' Mycroft said as he plastered a fake smile across his face.


End file.
